Drunkledore: Why Albus Doesn't Drink?
by Lord Jeram
Summary: So why did Dumbledore stop drinking? The very stupid answer may just surprise you.


**This little quickie is inspired by the DLP challenge of "Why Albus Doesn't Drink?" It is quite stupid.**

 **The Trouble with The Teetotaler**

 **Or: What Goes In Must Come Out**

 **A Story In Sixteen Acts**

Harry rubbed his head and winced. After a moment, he realized his foot was still on fire and hurriedly extinguished it.

"And that, Harry my boy, is why I don't drink!" Dumbledore let off a mighty hiccup and drank a healthy quaff of his mysterious mug.

"That is in very bad taste sir," said Harry as he checked for any missing limbs. "All there, good. Sir, isn't it time for you to use that hangover potion before more people die?" The pain in Harry's head, previously a cacophony of overloaded agony, had faded to a dull roar. "I could use one myself."

"Let me tell you about the first time I got splifficated," said Albus drunkenly, stroking the beard of an unconscious Flitwick.

Harry tried not to smirk at the word but couldn't help himself. "I'm not interested in another story," he said. "Can I tell you about the first time I got drunk?"

"No," replied the Headmaster. "So I was a young man at the time, approximately nine years, four months, sixteen days, and a few hours old."

I was smart, Harry, pretty smart. _Sir, you're slurring your words_. Very smart, in point of fact. I knew that I was smart, for you see, I knew a great many things. One of these things was that whenever my father drank his magic potion, he was joyous, friendly, and a sheer delight to be around.

Yet he kept the potion locked away, behind both Magical and Muggle locks.

 _And this "potion" was firewhiskey or something?_

To this day, I still do not know what matter of potent potable it was, my lad. But it changed me. You have used accidental magic, have you not? Blowing up your aunt and the like, as I recall. Were you intoxicated at the time?

 _Uh, no. Just angry_.

The drink also made me angry. Imagine, if you will...

Abe walked into the house and yawned. He was a small boy but adored his older brother Albus, who was a thousand times as handsome and a thousand thousand times as brilliant.

 _Damn it, sir, are you telling me a story within your story? Also I don't really believe Aberforth ever 'adored' you. He once said to me that-_

Enough! I have told you never to speak to my brother, Harry.

 _No, you haven't_.

Hmm. Very well, Harry, you have bested me this day in our latest battle of wits. Shall I continue the tale?

 _...sure._

Abe was surprised that day to see a wondrous sight. For floating above the house was me, the great Albus Dumbledore, twirling and singing a gay song. Around me were a hundred or small, very terrified animals that I had summoned using accidental magic. My father was quite displeased.

 _Wait. Wait, hold on a second. He walked into the house... and saw you floating above the house?_

It was only a few years later when I once again got quite poggled, around the age of thirteen or so, that the chickens, as they say, grew feathers and flew away. By that point my dear sister Ariana had a great deal of her "problems", but I assumed that my father's magic potions would save me once more.

 _I think I get the point_. _You loved that first drink so much, you figured you'd try it again. And what went wrong?_

Well spotted, my boy. For you see, the potion was an illegal blend of narcotics and alchologic musings, banned in half the world, while the rest pretended it didn't exist in the first place. It got me extremely scammered, I do not mind telling you. Unfortunately, my mind played a few tricks on me that fine summer day, as when I laid eyes on my dear brother Aberforth, instead of my trusted, simple minded brother, growing a long beard even as a young child, I saw a fierce creature.

A beast, Harry! A great dark creature with a thousand limbs, twisted and angry, with blades for eyes and lightning for blood. Thankfully we were able to replace his fingers, but he never forgave me, not even until today when his body is more goat than man.

 _I don't believe this story even a little bit_.

It is assuredly a tale of truth, it merely depends on how you look at it.

 _Which means it's just nonsense that sounds cool, right?_

The next time I became temulent was a far worse situation. I was traveling across the continent to a small village in the region known as the "Precarious Expanse of Penumdrum", or more succinctly, "The Most Dangerous City in the World". In this lovely, horrifying place, the countryside was ruled over by a local tyrant by the name of Count von Countula. A vampire of some infamy, in point of fact.

 _There is something wrong with that, but I don't remember why. It's not Dracula?_

I am not familiar that that particular individual, Harry. Another vampire, I would assume? There are a few of them out there, but most are not what I would call the most friendly sort. Even my old friend Sanguini had more than a few issues with killing people,

 _And this is a friend who killed people, any other friends I should be concerned with?_

Naturally, my boy, naturally. Of course, after the dust and blood settled, I was in for quite the talking to by the local Minister of Magic, I should tell you!

Dumbledore began to laugh at his own wit and he took another unhealthy swig of his mysterious beverage. He let off a horrendous burp and smiled. "A magic unlike any other, eh, Harry?"

Harry grimaced. "That's disgusting, sir. And your stories have literally had no point at all. If I can summarize so far, you got drunk as a child and thought you were floating over your house with a bunch of animals, you hallucinated that your brother was a monster and dismembered him, and you also did something to kill a vampire somewhere. What does that have to with anything?"

"It's relevant backstory," said the Headmaster, trying to tap himself on the nose but accidentally hitting his eye instead. "Perhaps it will become clear if I explain the next time I was skimished. It was many years later, in fact, only two years ago."

Harry sat up straight. "Actually, that sounds like it might be relevant. Unless you're so drunk it's interfering with your memory. Which..." he sighed. "Is likely the case."

The unfortunate problem with Dumbledore's impromptu stories was that it only temporarily solved the problem of the escaped Nundu Dementor. When Harry bothered to think about it, he was overwhelmingly terrified. Hard to believe it had started with a simple game of katmandu.

"Alright, gents and gals, place your bets, who will be the first up the mystic road of contemplation!" Ron had gotten exceptionally good at hosting the game, which was good, as he was beyond awful at playing it otherwise.

"Two Knuts," said Dean and he grinned widely. "I fancy a transcendental change coming on."

"You're all washed up," Ginny told him with a smirk. "I've got two knuts and a sickle says I reach enlightenment before your hair touches cloud."

The watching crowd whistled in admiration at the audacious bet.

"Yer out yer yockers, lassie," Seamus sighed and threw down his Eye. "Can't keep up with it, I'm done."

"The blighter from the bogs has fallen into the realm of wind and ghosts," shouted Ron in excitement as he ground up Seamus' old bets and threw them into the spectral gate. "Anyone else out of the game?"

"Too rich for me," said George with a grumble.

"Too poor for me," said Fred and he laughed. "Three sickles and six knuts."

Hannah Abbott shrieked in alarm and fainted from the shock.

"Someone get the poor gal a Pepper Up or something," said Ron as he greedily accepted the bet. "Anyone else?"

A few managed to stick around, and then it got to Harry's turn. "Hmm," he said, inspecting his inner hand. "Hmm," he said again, inspecting his outer hand. "Hmm," he said a third time, checking his inner and outer eye.

"Enough!" Hermione groaned, finally looking up from her book, the one she had always claimed was written by herself and would auto-Obliviate any reader to keep the fun of the first read alive. "Harry, this game makes no sense. It's like if Divination was crossed with Cluedo. Just bet or don't already, you're annoying me."

"The lady makes a great point," said Ron with warmth. "Harry, gonna play a Galleon to be a principal ponce?"

Harry didn't say anything for a minute. "No," he said unconvincingly. "A fifth time wouldn't be funny anymore," he lied obviously. "Fine, whatever, I'll hit the bet over and match the reverse. How boring."

"I will do the same," said Susan Bones, grinning at Harry. "And I think it would've been funny a sixth time."

Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff and Ginny threw her third eye at him.

"Gin-Gin, that's left you with just your fourth eye," said Ron with enormous relish. "I don't know if they planned it, but that'll make it tough to brave the caverns of contradiction."

"Bloody hell," Ginny cursed and groaned in annoyance. "I barely made it through the last game with all my eyes."

"All part of my sinister plan," said Susan with a giggle. Ginny gave her a look that clearly said "If I didn't think you were too bubble headed to manage stealing Harry, I'd be throwing you off a tall, tall tower. As it is though, I am simply just exasperated in your general direction".

"Okay, I think that's everyone settled. Now for the fun bit." He raised the mystic panoploplum and said the words, "Gate of Ng-Starlight, Everpresent in the Underlight, Fallsome in the Purelight, what next befalls the path to the place known as kat... man... du!"

Everyone watched as the spectral gate wavered and a single figure appeared. Half the room groaned, while the other half furiously scanned their cards.

"Whoa, I don't think anyone saw that coming," said Ron unncessarily. "It seems you've fallen prey to the Unrepentant Wanderer. Who has the needed shiny oboluses to distract the Ferryman from his devious goal?"

"Obluses, it's so obvious," said Hermione with a grunt. "It's Charon."

This got blank stares from everyone else.

"From Greek mythology. The Ferryman on the River Styx, to the land of the Dead?" Hermione got increasingly frustrated as nobody recognized any of these references. "He was bribed with coins or oboluses, which is the word you used. This game is just a stupid mix of nonsensical panderings and mythological confusions. I don't understand any of your fascination with it!" And with that, she stormed out of the room.

"Er, um, what crawled up her arse?" Neville said hesitantly and then, after a moment of shock, the room burst into rapturous laughter.

"I've reached Nirvana," shouted Susan and played her Itinerant Monk. "And I'm locking down the gates too!" Everyone else threw down their cards as Susan collected her winnings.

"I was so close too," said Harry with a groan. "I had the Banker in reserve."

"You waited too long, Harry," said Susan with a big smile on her face. "Another game?"

Ron looked around the room. "I don't think so, Susan. Katmandu needs a pot of at least a Galleon to make it interesting. And nobody wants to lose to you again. You're surprisingly good at it."

"I shall choose to take that as a compliment," said Susan as she gave Harry a wink.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You would, you bloody simple tart."

"Jealousy is an ugly colour on you, Gin," said Susan with a glint in her eyes. "Are you not quite happy with your monogamous relationship?"

"Hufflepuffs do not believe in monogamy as a matter of principle," interjected Ernie pompously. "Not that it matters, because outside the House, you all could simply not handle it."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "This is news to me. Very interesting news."

"Do you _want_ Hermione to kill you?" Neville asked, getting into the spirit of things, although this comment only got a few polite chuckles.

"You're a good kid," said Ron with a smile. "Thanks for that."

Neville made a face. "You're an arse, Ron."

Ron laughed. "Well, I think you're funny at least."

Suddenly there was a commotion, as Dobby the House Elf appeared, dressed exactly like Quirrell from Harry's first year, turban and all. "Nundu in Azkaban. Thought you ought to know." And then the little guy fainted.

Harry later wondered why Dobby had dressed up and referenced something so specific, as he wasn't exactly prone to jokes. But since the Nundu later ate Dobby before the Dementor incursion, it remained a mystery.

"Harry, you seem to have stopped listening to my stories."

"Eh?" Harry looked up and blinked blearily. "And?"

"Let me just finish then, if you do not mind?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

Harry sighed and nodded.

The Headmaster cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, looking for all the world like man of merely sixty-seven. "And that, Harry", proclaimed Dumbledore. "Is the last time I was ever squiffed."

"Meaning right now?"

Dumbledore tapped his skewed spectacles. "Precisely. Now... wake up!"

Harry waited for a moment but nothing happened. "Was that supposed to do something?"

"Ah, drat," Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I was hoping that this was merely a dream of yours that you were about to wake up from. Terribly sorry."

"So..." Harry sighed and poured himself another drink. "Since we're all dead anyway, I guess I'll join you. Cheers." And he swallowed far too much in a single gulp.

As his vision faded and he felt the ground swallow him whole, Harry saw Dumbledore give a big thumbs up and smile. All in all, it wasn't the worst last thing to see.

END


End file.
